A Kind of Routine

Mails, some pages of one of my books and water at 9h15. Coffee with milk after one mechanical system and a drawing.

Water through the several design assignments and some pages of books to relax by every 90 minutes or so.

Lunch at 13h15 with rice and vegetables, side-dish and chapati, buttermilk to annihilate harmless effects of spices and water.

I relax by reading more til 14h00 then work again with water and books ‘til tea with milk.

More design to dive in til 17h30 and I’m off.

The bus company takes about 45min to reach my station.

Sometimes, I’d go straight home. Others, I’d go down on other stations and either relax in a café with a book, enjoying my own company, or wander around the streets and the places, either with an acquaintance or by myself. Sometimes, I exchange small talks with people on the road. Others, I barely manage to utter some words to the autorickshaw driver.

It’s not a routine though. I don’t feel it is.

Everyday goes on with its events and talks and discoveries. Within me, it’s a whirlpool of ideas and impessions. Lives die and are born within me meanwhile.

Yesterday, for the first day in my life, I’ve seen and caught a firefly.

The day before, the rain that poured was so heavy I thought the fan was on and woke up to turn it off only to end up not sleeping at all and looking from my window to the landscape for some one hour and more.

Two days ago, I’ve met an acquaintance from CS and finally got my hand on the book I’ve asked for at the library.

Everyday is bringing me its load of opportunities and discoveries.

And during most of the time in my wanderings, I’d think about the confusing bus system, the prices of rickshaws, the fact they just don’t want to turn the damn counter on and whether I’m experiencing Bangalore in the core or I’m just being like any other tourist that is more interested in taking picture of himself/herself in front of monuments and bragging about the places he/she has been to on Facebook and Twitter when he/she can’t even have a sincere exchange with a local and neither cares about knowing the proper name of the place or its history nor understands that locals are humans with a different culture.

Diving in new waters with a suit then coming out of the new ocean telling the world « I’ve been in the abyss and I’ve looked at stuff and took pictures there » when you didn’t even get a taste of the water, don’t seem to remember the features of what you’ve seen and just like water on your skin, you wipe out the memory for the coming ones. And you use random general cliché words to describe a unique experience.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it. At least, I believe so. It’s just not the way I want things to work out for me.

Maybe it’s because I’m such a fanatic FF VII freak or because the sounds and music of the game are always in my ear, but I came to associate Bangalore with Midgar after 500 years old from the events of the game. Maybe far less than 500 years old. Perhaps somwhere between 300 and 370 years old.

The green surrounding the factories, hovering over the roads and finding its way through neiborhoods and fiels is mesmerizing.